


The Space Between

by aykayem



Series: Satisfaction [9]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 19:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: It's rare that Magnus and Isabelle can keep their hands off one another.





	The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> His fingers crept gradually lower on her body, his other hand gentle, grazing a touch against her waist as she arched into him. He was happy to bring her closer yet, warm digits wandering low beneath the waistband of her jeans, button popped and zip undone, offering up more room for him to touch her. Isabelle's breath caught, her eyes screwing shut as she leaned forward, catching his mouth in a firm kiss that did nothing to suggest she didn't love it.

Her sweater had already fallen somewhere else, abandoned when his wayward hands chose to explore the soft warmth of her chest, pushing her bra aside as the pad of his thumb brushed against her nipple, feeling it harden and pebble beneath his touch. He had exhaled a kiss against her lips then, and she had pulled his shirt off and thrown it aside, her fingers exploring his chest in their own right, up over smooth pectorals and the ridge of his collarbone, eventually falling to cup the back of his neck. She pulled him close, and he pulled her close in turn. The space between their bodies was hot, thick enough with tension and want that it was almost palpable; they were always connected at least one point, both of their hands striving to touch constantly, without fail.

Another gasp fell from her lips, her head tipping back against the wall. His fingers dipped inside her, finding her wet core, and stroked gently, finding a rhythm that suited their pace. They were relaxed, both finding any sort of speed unnecessary in the face of this lazy touch. He shifted slightly, his free hand pushing down her jeans a bit more, freeing up more space for him to work his magic, fingers slipping deeper inside her; Isabelle's hips rocked up to meet Magnus' hand again, her hands clinging to his shoulders, nails leaving gentle trails of red down tanned skin.

In the end, he didn't have to say anything, and neither did she; they communicated simply in the grip of their hands, in gasps and moans, until she gasped out loud again, melting against him.


End file.
